


i left my consciousness in the sixth dimension

by roadrunning



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Art, Coming of Age, F/F, Found Family, Friendship, Future AU, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, M/M, No ZADR / ZAGR, OC / Irkensona plot, War, aren’t you tired of being ape shit mean ? don’t you just want to be nice?, ok ahahaaaa hmm, ships won’t be the focus but they are there, this is gonna be long and most of it is comedy with cool friend dynamics and razzing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-24 13:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadrunning/pseuds/roadrunning
Summary: “So you’re telling me, that in the millions of years your empire has existed, there has never ONCE been a inter-global war? You green ant monsters have never disagreed on anything?”“Of course not! What sort of mighty empire spends it’s free eons fighting itself like you ugly, human slugs?”





	1. I: yes, her name is nascar.

**Author's Note:**

> im @skoodge on tumblr

_She remembers the first time she ever piloted a ship. Nascar was 1.4 plurs old._

_Technically, any Irken could remember their first time flying a ship. It’s considered a momentous occasion for anyone of her species. It doesn’t make her different from any Irken to remember._

_What she makes her different, she believes, is the clarity at which she can remember._

_Most Irkens don’t remember the smooth, violet plating covering the hood of their first ship, or the old, blue decals from the cruiser’s last owner chipping away._

_And who would bother to care?_

_Those crappy ships were only ancient models used to train inexperienced future pilots!_

_...That fact didn’t mean anything to Nascar, however._

_To her, the shitty, shoddy ship was as intimidating as the newly built Massive._

_And she remembers it._

_She remembers the stone sitting in her chest as the string, gum, and paper clip cruiser readied to take off from it’s charging port._

_She remembers her captain, tall, pink, and ugly, tapping his foot in annoyance at her hesitation._

_She remembers the nausea._

_She remembers staring at the accelerator lever, reaching for it, then gently pushing it forward._

_She remembers the nausea._

_This time much worse-..._

_...-but not from fear. _

_She remembers her heart growing as gigantic as the soaring vessel she piloted as it slowly picked up in speed, pulling and pushing her across stardust and galaxies._

_She remembers the freedom and the independence and the exhilaration andthespeed-_

_...She remembers falling in love with something so deeply and so quickly-_

_...that it overshadowed her loyalty to an empire..._

_...and her love for a species._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_Nascar remembers flying._


	2. II: dib gets closer to failing basic math

Senior year was the easiest year of school Dib has ever had to deal with.

Pigs could also fly.

Ghosts were not real.

And Dib _certainly_ did not see Bigfoot at his 8th grade local farm trip.

The human student could certainly keep coming up with lie after lie, but he was too busy at that moment with school work.

College Algebra, to be precise.

College Algebra that was due in one hour.

It was 11:02 pm on a school night.

Dib yanked a pillow off the top of his bed and yelled into it.

“SILENCE!” Zim shouted from the teen’s bed, _not_ silently.

“I need to finish this assignment on your ‘World War’, so keep your stupid mouth closed!”

“Zim, you are a war mongering space invader, AND a hardened soldier. World War 2 _shouldn’t be a tough topic for you._”

Zim seemed to still for a moment, almost confused by Dib’s statement.

“...There were _two_ ‘World Wars’?”

“Holy shit. Just switch laptops with me. You do mine, and I’ll do yours.”

“Deal, Dibstink.”

The two then slipped into a shockingly familiar and comfortable silence.  
Dib remembers when it was different, and how this would have never happened in middle school.

Dib, five years ago, could proudly say that he was a straight A+ student and an alien investigator.

Now?

He was sitting on the floor next to his small and overused childhood bed, with his intergalactic rival lounging atop it.

He also had to cheat with said alien bastard to pass his dual credit classes.

Time changes everyone, he guessed.

Yes, time changes everyone, but not every_thing_.

“Actually, Dib,” Zim announced, just as the room finally had the chance to become quiet, “you can take your overheating, Dell garbage back.”

“I just realized that learning about the history of your planet’s wars will be necessary in my mission to subjugate every human on this miserable rock to my will.”

Zim still acted like, well, Zim.

His prideful and obnoxious behavior was one of the major and few constants Dib still had in his life. While Dib shot up in height, came out, and became interested in new career options, Zim stayed almost frozen in time.

The invader had changed in small ways, though. His attempts at world domination seemed to be just vain attempts to prove that, “YES _DIB_! I _COULD_ TAKE THE WORLD OVER, IF I SO WISHED!” rather than actual threats.

Mostly, Zim was a friend. Not a very _good_ friend, but one nonetheless.

“Zim, just say that you don’t know how imaginary numbers work in radicals and give me my shit back.”

And so, the two found themselves at square one, with an extra five minutes wasted.

“So, Dib,-“

“I know you never listen to anything I say Zim, but I’m begging you to let me finish this solution set. I’m on the verge of snapping.”

“Well step away from your verge and listen! I have an important question about one of these wars.”

“Shoot.”

Zim was not a good actor. Dib has been aware of this fact for half of a decade.

Everything from Zim’s disguise to his “humanly manners” were anything but Juilliard standard.

So, when Dib looked up to see his rival with a similar-from-before, genuine confused look on his face, he shut his laptop to hear Zim’s question.

“Who were these wars fought against?”

_What?_

“What?”

“Your enlarged head has tiny ears stuck to the side of it, Dib. Use them. I asked who humans fought these wars against.”

That... was not the sort of question he expected to hear. At all.

Dib took a second to process this new information.

Was Zim not aware that humans cannot make outer-world communication yet? No, that can’t be right. The Irken constantly made fun of Earth’s poor tech.

Then, a thought occurred to Dib.

Of course Zim would assume wars were fought against other worlds, other species.

That was the Irken way.

But...

It wasn’t the Earth way.

“Zim, we didn’t fight those battles against another species. We fought them against other humans.”

“...huh?”

“What part doesn’t make sense?”

“...huh?”

Ok. Awesome.

How was he going to explain this in a way Zim could absorb?

“...Well. Uhhhhh... Zim-...”

“...HUH?”

Why was he so loud?

“ZIM! You’re already aware that Irkens follow the commands of the Tallest alone, _yes_? And you also know that humans don’t unite under the same leader like you guys, _yes_?”

Both of Zim’s antennae seemed to perk and stiffen in thought, as he took in Dib’s words.

“Well, because humans have different leaders, we sometimes disagree on what’s best for humanity.” Dib continued, “This can lead to groups of humans fighting each other.”

Realization creeped across his friend’s dumb, green face. Zim took an air of smugness.

“Ah, I understand very well now.”

A beat passes. Zim spoke again.

“Well, if that’s the case, you humans are more moronic than I thought. Look at where the Irkens are compared to your race!”

Ah. There’s the Earth-bashing. Welcome back, Zim.

“Zim, Irk is millions of years old. There is no way that your race hasn’t had some sort of a civil war.”

“Nope. Never have, never will.”

“So you’re telling me,” Dib said, still completely unconvinced, “that in the millions of years your empire has existed, there has never ONCE been a inter-global war? You losers have never disagreed on _anything_?”

“Of course not! What sort of mighty empire spends it’s free eons fighting itself like you ugly, human slugs?”

Dib had to sit on that statement for a second. Had Zim’s home really never been in turmoil before? Is that why Irkens are so advanced?

Dib had to wonder, though.

There can’t be such a thing as a perfect society with no opposition, no matter what the loyalty-crazed soldier of that planet tells you. It couldn’t exist, no matter how well that society paralleled an ant farm.

Dib looked to his computer screen, where his solution set was met with a huge, red X for the third time that night.

Deep philosophy about alien societies should happen later.

“Fuck this assignment. Let’s go get some of Dad’s spaghetti.”

* * *

_The procession of Almighty Tallest Miyuki (may she be remembered)’s funeral was... freezing. And crowded. Irk’s finest court was filled with only the best Irkens to acknowledge their late tallest’s demise._

_Invaders and Elites alike stood shoulder to shoulder in something that was not mourning. Rather, it was something more akin to, “Well, ok. A tallest was killed.”_

_Yes, no one was mourning. Irkens didn’t mourn. They learned, and even sometimes experienced disappointment with the death of something promising for their Empire. _

_However, one invader of a broad stature and average height did allow himself to feel something a little more foreign than disappointment. Miyuki was intelligent. She was also extremely... agreeable._

_Not kind, but a diplomat. An Irken who saw intrinsic value in life. She held a bare minimum of sympathy for those leagues below her._

_Perhaps Irkens didn’t mourn._

_The invader allowed himself to feel sad anyways._

_And why wouldn’t he feel upset? The next tallest, with all the respect ingrained in his nature that he could muster, didn’t appeal to him. Almighty Tallest Spork was ugly._

_And a jerk._

_It wasn’t a good thought. There was no comfort in disagreeing with the Empire’s wishes._

_Goof, after the procession, flew by the planets he had gathered during his time under Tallest Miyuki._

_He wondered what was next for him._

* * *

The very next Monday, Dib found a fat, red zero sitting in front of Algebra Assignment #14.

Oh well. He had already applied to colleges with an old transcript anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @skoodge still, updates will b rocky ngl. drop a kudos for burnout dib 😔✊🏼 
> 
> UPDATE: added an image, special thanks to bianca ilysm bro


	3. III: chapter that proves all irkens need to go to therapy at least once

“Mobul, what’s our current location?”

“You can look for yourself. You’re a seasoned pilot, aren’t you?.”

Ah. So that’s what they were going to do again? They were going to argue again?

For the third time this morning?

Nascar leaned back into her seat and narrowed her eyes at Mobul. He wasn’t even _looking_ towards Nascar when he sneered at her!

“Well, Goof can’t cover for your co-pilot shift this time because they’re making their rounds on the bi-weekly maintenance check. Believe me, I’d rather have them helping me right now rather than _you_!”

Mobul, really, was one of the smartest Irkens in the universe. He was trained to know everything so he could relay anything.

Mobul was born to work in communication.

Nascar, however, believed Mobul to be a waste of biological smeet production materials.

The only thing that the Almighty Communications Officer could relay were garbage words from his garbage mouth.

“All you have to do is read the screen to your left. It’s fucking spelled out for you.”

“Nascar, don’t curse at Mobul and please watch the screen. I don’t want to die in a giant, flaming crash today.”

Goof entered the cockpit looking... pretty rough. They were covered in oil and dust from the top of their antennae down to their boots. Goof’s SIR unit followed them in as well, looking equally dirty.

Ah, thought Nascar, the mighty, retired invader and their flashlight robot.

_Gross_.

Still, Goof’s hygiene and general apathy towards everything that wasn’t sleeping or quiet could be ignored by Nascar.

At least one Irken on this ship was useful and didn’t give her attitude at every chance.

Mobul, who was situated at Nascar’s right, pulled the intercom mic over his mouth and flipped his seat around to face Nascar.

**“YES, CAPTAIN NASCAR.”**

Mobul’s nasally voice boomed across the ship as it’s intercoms switched on to spread his message.

Goof wasn’t a fan of having to reprimand their ship mates multiple times in one morning.

However, they also weren’t fond of Mobul’s loud voice clogging every speaker in the ship just to be annoying.

Goof needed to head back down to the lower deck soon to repair a volatile side booster, so they attempted to bring about the peace once more to get work done.

“MOBUL, TAKE THAT MIC AWAY FROM YOUR MOUTH OR I SWEAR I’LL-“

**“-I UNDERSTAND THAT THERE IS A PANEL IN FRONT OF ME INSTRUCTING ME OF THE OF ONE OF THE SHIP’S SECURITY STATUSES. THE TRUTH IS, IT DOES NOT INDICATE LOCATION. IT INDICATES THAT WE ARE AT 56% CHARGE.”**

Actually? Those two could settle it themselves, Goof relented.

If they didn’t want Good to get work done, then Goof was just going to sit and relax for the time being.

Mobul, after his address, proceeded to dramatically yank the headset microphone from one of his stubby antennae, and turn back around to his portion of the Zergo’s console.

Nascar showed no emotion during his spiel.

She did, however, point to the panel slightly above the charge indicator.

_ The final finger of monkey paw began to close._

Goof sensed a migraine approaching and set their head on the dashboard panel.

Nascar was pointing at a screen, right in front of Mobul.

This is what it read:

“[LOCATION: MWGLXY 452 SECTOR 4. NEARING PORGOG IN FIVE MINUTES.]” 

The Mobul stared at the screen where Nascar was smugly pointing.

Slowly, he got up and looked down to Nascar.

“Well, Captain—“

...

“—It’s nice to know that your grand eyesight makes up for your incredible height.”

A beat passed.

No one, SIR or Irken alike, said anything.

Then, Nascar shot out her seat faster than any ship she had ever piloted.

Thus begun the third argument of the day.

“Hello? Hello? Hello?”

A little voice from the back of the cockpit was drowned out by it’s two drivers.

“—THINK YOU’RE SO GREAT? YOU GOT KICKED OFF YOUR SQUAD FOR BEING A SHIT DRIVER!”

“Hi! Listen! Hello?”

“WRONG! THAT IS NOT WHY I HAD TO LEAVE AND YOU—“

“Someone listen!”

“OH YEAH! I REMEMBER NOW! YOU HAD TO LEAVE BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T WANT A DERANGED IRKEN TO PILOT—“

“Please?”

“—ANTENNAE MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE A VORTLIN_WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT, SIR_?”

All the Irkens, including Goof, whipped their heads around to find Goof’s little SIR standing with it’s hands behind it’s back.

The robot was standing in the doorway of the cockpit, holding a slab of purple metal in it’s hand.

“_Zergo Captains!_” It saluted, “A large piece of equipment came loose from the side booster Goof was repairing! My sensors tell me it was the booster cover, should we begin repairs now?”

...

A lot of things happened at once.

First, the side booster about thirty feet below the crew activated to deter the ship from the upcoming planet’s gravity.

This caused the engine to blast fire throughout the entire lower deck.

Second, all three Irkens and their little robot were thrown onto the ground in the surge.

They weren’t the only things that were bound to crash against the ground extremely hard, however.

The ship was headed straight for the planet their location panel had warned them about.

“COMPUTER, INITIATE EMERGENCY LANDING!”

“Of course, Almighty and Revered Irken Captain Nascar, what planet should I initiate the landing on?”

Mobul would have laughed if he wasn’t faced with the certainty of a horrific death at that moment.

“_YOU HAVE THE SHIP CALL YOU THAT?_”

“THAT DOESN’T MATTER! SHUT UP!”

“I do not recognize the planet, ‘Shuddup’. Prepare for landing, regardless?”

“NO! FUCK!”

WHAT WAS THE PLANET’S NAME AGAIN?

Suddenly, Goof’s voiced boomed over the high pitched squealing of the ship’s falling.

**“COMPUTER, INITIATE LANDING ON PORGOG!”**

* * *

Porgog was once a lush and beautiful planet.

It’s former inhabitants enjoyed a vast array of vegetation to sustain themselves off of and a kind, benevolent society of leaders to maintain tranquility.

If you had visited Porgog plurs ago, you would have marveled at the planet’s iconically tall trees, clear sky, and complete lack of technology.

The citizens of this planet would have opened their home and hearts to you, whether you were a fugitive or an Irken.

Their altruism was almost notorious in a universe full of invaders and thieves.

Porgog now, however?

It was complete shit.

Porgog was now a ball of forgotten concrete drifting through the cosmos like a dead fish in a gross, radioactive pond.

This is the planet that Tak had found herself on after her encounter with Earth.

Her radio-in-progress looked like a boot.

She had no working ship or sir unit.

MiMi was completely mashed beyond repair.

The sad robot could occasionally make the low humming noise, but that wasn’t of any use to Tak.

MiMi was completely..._useless_.

And what could she do about it? Spit on the concrete until she felt that she had properly insulted the planet’s honor for the day? As if the planet had any to begin with. It was just an empty fucking parking lot now—!

—That didn’t matter right now, though.

At least she wasn’t cleaning up waste and cooking fries in Foodcourtia.

There were worse things than sitting on a dusty planet, planning on which direction to begin an evisceration on her enemy.

Her _enemy_. Her _rival._

Short motherfucker.

Tak kicked a sheet of cheap metal closer her makeshift base, where she was going in an attempt to improve the radio.

Progress, for communication devices that looked like garbage, was going decent.

Yes, hope wasn’t completely lost for Tak.

The worst part wasn’t even the crashing and being stranded the nowhere planet.

It was the humiliation.

The humiliation of losing to a raving defect.

Oh, but that defect had a big storm coming.

During her time on Poopgoog, Tak had the time to reflect on the flaws and successes of her previous mission.

The cycles upon cycles all by herself, surrounded by nothing and nobody, only sharpened her intellect and abilities.

Like a true invader, she wisely used her long and insufferable time in isolation to begin a new plan.

A _better_ plan.

A plan that would achieve her long term goal of securing the title of invader and receiving every honor she was supposed to be given by birthright, by sheer ability.

She was going to become an elite invader.

And no one, not even shitty bugs like him, we’re going to stop her in her mission.

Even if his death had to take precedence.

Even if Tak has to rip him limb by limb, starting with his antennae and then his _stupid, stupid, useless—_

—What was that smell?

Wait, wait.

Was that...the smell of something _burning_?

...

Yeah. Tak smelt fire.

She smelt fire as she was getting closer to her base.

That’s a good sign. A _greeeeaaat_ sign!

As the concrete roof of her trash abode came into view over a pile of rocks, Tak laid her eyes upon her salvation.

Salvation, in the form of an ugly, outdated, and burning ship parked right into the side of her now-flaming base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONCE AGAIN SHOUT OUT TO BIANCA................ thnk u 💙


End file.
